


this is the part

by KelseyO



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (how many Gay Episodes have there been now i've lost track), F/F, anyways. partly canon compliant partly arguably a rewrite, continued through Second and Third Gay Episodes, look at these idiots they're so dumb and cute, started writing this after the First Gay Episode, who fricken cares go get ur feels on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: Her name’s Hannah, and she’s the most out-and-proud bisexual on the force, but she’s not Maggie’s girlfriend.
“So that’s Danvers, huh?”
Maggie starts the car and peels away. “You think it worked?”
Hannah jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “I think based on the look on her face, you can probably skip the mind-games and start having some really hot sex.”
(Set during/after 2x04, through 2x05. Title from "Run Away With Me" by CRJ.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> After 2x04 I wondered if Maggie was showing off a fake girlfriend, and by the next episode that was clearly not the case but I'd already committed to my idea so HERE'S A FIC.
> 
> Beta'd by tumblr user usuallyproperlyhydrated.

Her name’s Hannah, and she’s the most out-and-proud bisexual on the force, but she’s not Maggie’s girlfriend.

She’s someone whose ass Maggie saved back when Hannah was a rookie who thought of backup as more of a suggestion than a requirement, and sure, one could argue that a life saved isn’t really interchangeable with a super hot DEO agent made jealous, but whatever—a favor’s a favor, and she’s cashing in.

Hannah holds her hand until they get back to the cruiser, then frowns into the side-view mirror.

“So that’s Danvers, huh?”

Maggie starts the car and peels away. “You think it worked?”

Hannah jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “I think based on the look on her face, you can probably skip the mind-games and start having some really hot sex.”

. . .

If there’s one criticism she gets from nearly everyone on the force, it’s that she sucks at taking advice. 

Not only does she fabricate a girlfriend, but a week later she fabricates a breakup—mostly because she’s not sure Alex is ready to get direct about any of this and it might be better for both of them if she coaxes it out of her instead, but also because she’s more than a little curious about how Alex might react.

And frankly, girl does not disappoint. She fusses over Maggie like she doesn’t have any extra-terrestrials she could be hunting down, suggests more social activities in twenty-four hours than an over-caffeinated soccer mom, and finally Maggie can’t help but probe just a little.

“I didn’t know you were into girls.”

“I’m not,” Alex says too determinedly, too defensively for someone who actually means it.

. . .

So begins the epic backtracking Hannah called over a beer two nights ago, and now their kickboxing session is a bit more brutal than usual.

“You know I love you, Saw, but—”

“I’m being kind of a dick.”

“Kind of a gigantic dick.”

Maggie shrugs and throws another right-hook. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to stew for a while and figure out what she wants.”

Hannah’s next hit is her hardest so far. “We both know damn well what she wants.”

“If she doesn’t circle back around by the end of the week”—Hannah dodges her one-two punch and has Maggie flat on her ass one kick later— “I’ll fix it,” she promises.

Hannah pulls her to her feet.

. . .

The thing is, Alex knows where to find Maggie and Maggie knows Alex will come. She picks a table away from the front door for less distractions, one that’s big enough to keep some space between them if they need it, and sits with her back to the entrance so there’s no awkward eye contact, or any contact at all, until Alex is ready.

(Detectives are paid to be thorough, okay?)

She’s realizing how sad her multiple emptied shot glasses look when she hears her new favorite voice behind her, skipping any legitimate greeting or small talk and diving head-first back into concern.

“I was worried about you.”

The words are so soft and sincere, and there’s a slight chance she doesn’t deserve this girl. “I’m sorry if I was too forward the other day,” Maggie gets out nice and smooth, casual but honest, just like she practiced in her head a million times, because she can’t afford to botch an apology to Alex Danvers.

Rather than wave it off or let loose another round of denials, Alex sits down so carefully that the chair might as well be made of paper and in danger of collapsing at any moment.

And then she starts talking. Maggie prepared herself for a big conversation, but not for this—not for a crash course on Alex Danvers’s personal history, not for the weight behind each individual word, not for the determined nonchalance that comes from trying to convince yourself that scary things aren’t scary. “I just never liked… being intimate,” Alex finishes a little quieter than everything else, and Maggie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

(She does neither; she just smiles the “You’re safe” smile she learned from Hannah.)

“I never thought that it was because of…” Alex’s eyes keep dropping to the tabletop. “The other, uh… Maybe I… I mean. I don’t know…”

The stutters are so goddamn endearing, and she’d take all her clothes off right here and now if the rational part of her brain weren’t dutifully reminding her that would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise.

Alex takes another breath. “Now I just can’t stop thinking about…”

“About what?” Maggie asks before she can stop herself.

Big brown eyes snap to hers. “That maybe… there’s some truth to what you said.” Alex nods her way through the whole sentence, like if she stops moving the words will freeze in her mouth.

“About?” Maggie knows exactly what she said. They both know it. She doesn’t care.

“What you said,” Alex repeats, and her voice is steadier now. “About me.”

Maggie’s smile isn’t Hannah’s anymore; it’s her own.

Alex excuses herself a beat later, though not before slipping in an “I’m glad you’re okay,” and Maggie keeps her arms crossed so they don’t try to wrap themselves around Agent Danvers indefinitely.

. . .

It’s been a very, very long time since Maggie Sawyer missed anyone. The people she cares about on more than a professional level—like, all three-ish of them—she sees most days, and honestly, she decided a while ago it’s more worth it to focus on what’s in front of her than want what she doesn’t, and sometimes can’t, have.

But damn, if she’s not kind of dying to call Alex and make this stupid empty apartment feel less stupid and empty.

She swore to herself that she’d let Alex make the next move again, and their teams regularly cross paths so it’s not like she needs to force anything at this point… and for God’s sake, she only got home from the bar an hour ago.

There is no good reason for any of the tightness in her chest right now.

Her fingertips are within an inch of her phone when there’s a knock on the door, and she thanks multiple deceased relatives, pets, and deities she doesn’t even believe in for the intervention.

...Or not.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Alex blurts, cheeks flush and hands stuffed into her pockets.

“For what?”

Alex shrugs. “For using DEO resources to find your address.”

Maggie might be smiling again. “You wanna come in?”

“I—you don’t have to invite me, I shouldn’t have just dropped by like this. You’re probably busy doing… I’m sorry, I’ll just—”

“Danvers.”

Alex clears her throat. “Yeah?”

“You should come in.” She steps aside, and when Alex still hesitates, she offers her hand. Alex cautiously accepts and Maggie pulls her over the threshold, then watches Alex study the space like she’s never seen an apartment before, arms crossed tight across her chest and eyes on anything but Maggie. “Drink?”

“Uh—no, that’s okay. I probably shouldn’t—” Alex pauses at Maggie’s look. “Maybe just one,” she concedes, and Maggie already has two glasses sitting on the kitchen island. “Just not too strong, okay?”

Maggie plucks a few bottles from the fridge. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“I-I—” Alex chews her bottom lip. “I don’t trust me.” She settles heavily onto one of the stools, watching Maggie pour. “I-I don’t… I don’t know how to do this,” she admits, letting out one hell of a tired sigh.

“Well,” Maggie replies, pushing one of the glasses toward Alex, “first, you drink.”

Alex stares at it for a beat, then takes a small, hesitant sip. “Wow. That is—”

“It’s good, right?”

“Very, very good.”

Maggie throws half of hers back in one swallow. “My sister’s recipe. She made a lot of friends in college.” Alex doesn’t say anything, just takes a series of equally small sips. “You doing okay?” she asks gently.

It takes a while for Alex to speak. “Is it dumb to be scared? Of… whatever this is?”

“Not even a little bit.”

That puts a shy smile on her face. “Being here helps,” she says quietly, more like a thought spoken aloud than an intentional statement, and her eyes snap to Maggie’s. “I mean—”

“I’m glad,” Maggie interrupts, not bothering to tone down the affection in her voice, because apparently her new mission in life is to make Alex Danvers feel as comfortable as possible.

Alex’s cheeks flush for the second time tonight and she downs the rest of her drink. “What’s next?” she manages, wincing at the burn then clasping her hands tightly on the countertop in front of her.

Maggie smirks, rounds the island until she’s right next to Alex, watches her jaw muscle flex as Maggie tucks a few locks of hair behind Alex’s ear.

“How about a movie?”

The question visibly relieves Alex, and she clears her throat. “I’d like that.”

And then Maggie’s holding her hand again as she leads Alex to the living room, and refuses to let herself laugh at the clammy palm against hers.

(God, she really is the biggest dick.)

. . .

They start at opposite ends of the couch, but when Maggie comes back from making the popcorn she lands on the middle cushion instead of the left, and then Alex shoves her when she insists on rewinding a part only Maggie finds hysterical, and she somehow barely notices Alex’s head dropping to her own shoulder until she goes for the remote and realizes she can’t move.

She glances down at Alex, passed out cold in the crook of her neck, chuckles under her breath.

“Nerd,” she whispers, planting a gentle kiss on Alex’s forehead, and she has no idea which of them she’s talking to.

 


End file.
